Council Affairs: The Tripe Before Christmas

Limerick County Council Offices in Dooradoyle.

Limerick Post columnist Sean Mellor brings us a play on the classic poem ‘A Visit from St Nicholas’ by Clement Clarke Moore for the festive season.

‘TWAS the night before Christmas, and not a scone was buttered in City Hall.

Not a local representative was stirring in the corridors of power at all, not even an overzealous member of the Active Travel team, who aren’t on many of the councillors’ Christmas card lists – along with my own good self too.

“But don’t mention the war,” the ghost of Christmas future lambasts.

The stockings were haphazardly hung in the Chief Executive’s office in the hopes that a Directly Elected Mayor would soon be on hand to put the Merchant’s Quay house in right proper order.

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Councillors were all wrapped up tight in their cots, while visions of  looming local elections danced around their heads, heralding images of earnest pointing at lampposts and potholes in the months ahead.

Then bang – oh what a clatter, it would have woken the workers on the O’Connell Street job.

The good folk of Limerick threw open their windows to have a quick gawk, only to discover another bus wedged tight between two bollards on the main thoroughfare.

“Nothing to see here”, a weary bus driver cried, as the townsfolk went back to their warm beds and the hardworking Council staff were once again called from theirs.

“Another bus stuck, a jaded young Collopy moaned.

Director of Transport Kennedy pulled out his big stick and whistled and roared, “lads get it sorted or we’ll all be in the sh*t”.

“Now O’Connor! Now Ryan! Now Kelly!
Get the job done and there’ll be pints for ye all.

“On Murphy! On Fitzgerald! On McNamara and Bourke! Get that gowl’s bus moved or it will be ye gomies they’re stuffing and not the poor turkey!”

But no better buachaills on the Council’s payroll, they would have it moved in no time, no better shams at all!

And then, in a twinkling, it could be heard on the roof, a gaggle of councillors with the scent of a quick photoshoot.

Prancing and dancing, the Leader already called, they came pointing and throwing shapes like geese on the boil.

“Yurt, it must be sorted,” one dose heralded to the crowd.

“Telpis, the state of ya,” a passerby howled.

Then down O’Connell Street flew Chief Executive Pat, filled full of mince pies and donning a Limerick hurling cap.

“That’s three in a row buses,” he roared at his troops. “So, call the shades someone, or Santa’s sleigh will not pass”.

“Eamon Ryan you tool,” one worker did bellow. “You absolute jerk, the kids will have no Lego!”

But the local authority feens were not taking no for an answer.

“We’ll get that yoke moved before the elves get to Nicker”.

With a bob and weave, they got the bus moving. “A boy da kid Donie, we’ll still get Chicken Hut gravy with our big Christmas dinner”.

Enjoy the festivities folks and riding your bikes, because when Christmas is over, those hardhats will be once again back on their O’Connell Street site!